


Falling In Season

by PlumTea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Horror, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 08:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20224945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlumTea/pseuds/PlumTea
Summary: In college, Oikawa has big dreams. Olympic dreams. He can't afford to be distracted, no matter what.





	Falling In Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [northly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/northly/gifts).

> Written for North!

Oikawa gasps when he sees the seal on the letter. He tears it open, reading the neatly typed print inside, once, twice, thrice. He scrambles to his phone, and calls the only person he ever would.

"I got into Chuo! Sports scholarship!" he yells, half-breathless.

"Hey, congrats." Iwaizumi says on the other line. "I knew you'd get in."

"They'd be stupid to not accept Oikawa-san!" Oikawa drops onto his futon, sending his pillows flying. He buries his face into one of the pillows, sighing happily. All the hours on the court, in cram school, nothing but struggle, and here it comes into fruition.

"Damn right. You deserve it. You’ve got Olympic dreams, don’t you? You’ll get there for sure.“

"How about you, Iwa-chan?"

“Well..."

Oikawa straightens up. He knows that tension. "Did you not get the scholarship?"

"No, I..." Iwaizumi pauses. "I didn't get in."

A stone drops into Oikawa's stomach. "Then..."

"It looks like I'm staying in Sendai. You're the only one going to Tokyo."

"No. This has to be a mistake." 

"It's not. You deserve this. And I—“

"Don't? Don't you dare say that."

"Shut up, listen." And Oikawa snaps his mouth shut anyway, even if he doesn't like it. "I'm not putting myself down. I know I was pretty good. But I wasn't good enough. You were."

"I was— you're my vice-captain. My ace."

"Yeah, I sure was, I was a damn good ace too. But I can't be your ace forever, not on the court."

"Seijou was—“

"Seijou was  _ you _ , Oikawa. Don't get me wrong, our team was the best it could be, and I'm not ashamed of it one bit. But everyone knows you were the star. Don't be ashamed about it."

Oikawa has a retort, but it dies on his tongue. He's always had an inkling, but he never wanted to say it. He was so proud of his team, he still is... but...

"So no Tokyo, huh?" His head feels like a horrible weight on the pillow, sinking down. 

"Guess not." He hears that weight in Iwaizumi's voice as well. "But it's not the end of the world. We've got the trains. And Line."

He sighs. Iwaizumi is right, it’s not like they’re going to cut each other out of their lives forever. 

It's going to be a long four years.

* * *

He takes a trip down to Tokyo to tour the school formally. Chuo’s gym is massive, far bigger than Aoba’s Jousai’s ever could be. It has polished equipment, a steady flow of people in and out of the gym, and even people with video cameras recording practices for later review. It’s gorgeous, and everything he could ever dream of. 

The first year starts. His teammates are rowdy and a patchwork of personalities, but they all have just as much passion for the sport as he does. He doesn’t make starting string, but he performs well enough that he sees coach scribbling down things he needs to work on. Coach yells at him a lot, but coach wouldn’t do that unless Oikawa had some potential. Sure enough, he improves. After his first game, when he steps into the spotlight as a pinch server and smashes the ball across the court, his teammates all whisper that he’ll be on starting string next year. 

Sometimes, he thinks of Iwaizumi, and falters. Like now, when his spike bounces off the wall and goes flying into the bleachers. All his teammates stare at him. A sigh echoes across the gym as coach calls him over. 

“Is there an issue, Oikawa?”

“No, sir.” Just distractions. Again. 

“This has been a problem for the recently. Maybe you need a break. Touge can cover for you in the next game.”

Oikawa’s head snaps up. “No! It’s nothing! It’s just a temporary problem, I’ll be fine!”

“Not a family problem then?”

“No, sir.”

Coach looks at him, squinting, then sighs. “Alright. Whatever trouble you’re having, get rid of it. It’s affecting your performance.”

He has to get himself together. Focus. His Olympic dreams are on the line. Get rid of any distractions. 

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Iwaizumi doesn’t like him calling late. He’s also not the type to keep Oikawa waiting, so Oikawa should do the same and talk when it’s convenient. It’s been over 15 minutes since he pulled out his phone and made his decision. He knows that Iwaizumi doesn’t like Oikawa calling first, but this is an exception.

Maybe not Line, but a regular call would do.

“Hello?” comes a familiar voice, feminine.

“Auntie?”

Iwaizumi’s mother chuckles. “Oh, Tooru. It’s been a while since you’ve called.”

“Sorry.” She isn’t his mother, but she knows how to quick-shame him as if she were. “I actually wanted to talk to Iwa-chan.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, but Hajime isn't feeling well."

“Is it a cold?”

“Well, it’s…” Something about her voice sounds weary. 

“What is it?”

She sighs, heavy. “We’re not sure. We’ve brought him to the doctors a few times, but he hasn’t seemed to have been getting better.”

A chill washes over Oikawa, and seeps into his bones. “How long?”

“Maybe a month…”

A month of sickness is a death sentence for an athlete, but that aside, it’s purely abnormal. Iwaizumi, sick in bed for a month. Iwaizumi, having to take off from school for a month. Iwaizumi, at home, alone.

“Alright. Tell him I said hi, okay?”

* * *

“You’re a goddamn moron,” Iwaizumi says when he answers the door. “Is it even break yet?”

“It’s break in a few days, and I already told coach I was having an emergency. I brought fruit cups.”

Iwaizumi sighs, but lets him in regardless. 

Iwaizumi’s room is still relatively the same, with different things on the corkboard and more chaotic piles on the desk. It smells of Iwaizumi, but it’s thick and heavy with sickness. The dark circles under Iwaizumi’s eyes are even heavier in the dim lights, and he’s smaller when he slouches. Iwaizumi being sick is nothing new, but this time he’s a corpse still breathing.

“You look terrible,” Oikawa says, sitting on the floor. 

“I know.” Iwaizumi’s voice has been run through a machine and distorted. “Been a month, maybe two. The doctors can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe you have the black smallpox cancer.”

“That might be it, yeah.” Iwaizumi lies down, eyes to the ceiling. 

Neither of them talk for a long time. Iwaizumi’s labored breathing carries through the room. 

“It’s been a couple months since you called too.”

“I know. I’ve…” Oikawa fiddles with his fingers in his lap. Distractions. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

* * *

“You need to be more careful when you come over.”

“But Auntie and Uncle haven’t gotten sick, have they?” Oikawa huffs and puts his bag down. “We’re not sharing food, we’re not even using the same anything. I’ll be careful, don’t worry about it.”

Iwaizumi sighs, having long learned that there’s no stopping Oikawa once he’s in motion. 

“Besides,” Oikawa mumbles as he sets up his futon, “It’s been a couple of months.”

Iwaizumi coughs until he finally falls asleep. Oikawa stays up for a while longer, scrolling through social media, watching his friends’ lives from afar. His team’s group chat has over fifty messages, and a couple of him have sent him regimens he’s missed, and coach’s schedule for them over the break. So much to do, always. He falls asleep still holding his phone.

When he opens his eyes, it’s 3:36. Too early, even for going out for morning jogs. Just his luck. He starts to yawn, but the moonlight is shaped strangely on the wall. He freezes.

They are not alone. 

The shadow leans over Iwaizumi, almost in a kiss but far too deadly. When it pulls away, it leaves Iwaizumi coughing and hacking. 

It drifts. It looks his way. 

Oikawa bites his lips until they bleed.

Seconds feel like hours. 

The shadow turns away, and is gone.

* * *

“A burglar?” Iwaizumi’s father blinks at him. “Are you sure?”

He isn’t. All he saw were shadows, and an open window. It could have been anything, but at the same time, he’s sure it wasn’t. 

Iwaizumi’s father scratches his chin. “I don’t want to call you a liar, but I don’t think that would’ve happened, not without us noticing.”

“It didn’t trip security?”

“There’s that, but… I guess you were away for this. You remember the Moriis next door? Little Sakura got a dog for her birthday. It’s pretty nervous though, not trained just yet. Hajime’s window faces the Morii’s backyard, so someone would have to get out through there. No way that dog wouldn’t have made a racket if someone dropped into the yard.”

* * *

“A monster.”

“Or a thief. I don’t know. I saw something.”

Iwaizumi sighs, putting his bowl of soup down. It’s an effort with the heavy blanket over his shoulders, but he manages. “Maybe you’re tired.”

“I slept just fine!” Oikawa squawks.

“I mean, your training regimen. They’re working you like a pro in Chuo, aren’t they? Maybe you’re finally relaxed, and stress is hitting you all at once. It happens, bad dreams.”

It’s not the stress. Maybe it was a dream, but it wasn’t the stress.

“Can I stay over again?”

Iwaizumi gives him that look; that he knows Oikawa is up to something, but he isn’t sure exactly what. “Sure.” He acts stubborn, but Oikawa knows he’s happy to have the company. Being alone is a terrible thing.

* * *

He drifts, dreaming of shadows. 

His eyes snap awake to the moon, and distortions on the wall. Something is by the window, swallowing Iwaizumi’s form whole. A chill dances across Oikawa’s skin, keeping him down. It forces his face into his pillow, go back to sleep. There’s nothing there. You didn’t see anything. It’s just a dream.

No. Oikawa bolts out of the futon, turning on the intruder. Whoever is there has no place here—

He pauses, frozen. “I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” comes back, toneless and shadowed. The shadow looks like him, if he’d been burnt by the sun, charred down to his bones. Fury eyes watching him, the same way he watches a ball come flying down onto their side of the court. “You want to go pro, don’t you? You want to reach the worldwide stage, to shine above everyone else. You want the spotlight to be yours and yours alone. Your teammates might share it with you, and you’ll work with them, but you’re the setter. You’re the conductor, the one who orchestrates, the brain behind the movement. That’s not something you share.”

“What are you saying?”

The shadow rolls its eyes, annoyed. “You already know, don’t you? The determination to be the star player, the best on the team. That means hard work, and taking care of yourself, and all that takes time. And there’s only so much time.”

Oikawa realizes in a moment. “No.”

“There’s no room for anything else.”

“ _ No. _ ” Oikawa rushes forward, grabbing the shadow by its shirt. He pins the shadow where the wall meets the floor, pressing his entire weight down. Oikawa’s hands are fast, and wrap tightly around the shadow’s throat. 

The shadow looks at him, wide-eyed. Surprise and betrayal, and the thrill of having always known. “Don’t you want everything for yourself? Aren’t you selfish in the end?”

“I do.” Oikawa’s words push energy into his fingers. “And I am.”

He squeezes, squeezes so hard until there’s nothing between his hands but the dark.

* * *

“Iwa-chan is feeling better again! Your grumbles when you’re bedridden aren’t the same as your grumbles outside!”

Iwaizumi sighs, and punches Oikawa on the shoulder. His complexion has returned, and he no longer has to walk around with a pack of tissues. He’s still not perfect, but he’s healing, and it looks like he’ll be recovered by the time break is over. He’s definitely healthy enough for his mother to push a grocery list into his hands, smiling all the while.

“Ouch, that hurt!” Oikawa withers, feigning great pain. “Your monstrous strength is back again. Auntie’s right, you can carry two bags of rice at this rate.”

“Are you trying to give me more work?” Iwaizumi asks, teasing. “At least I’ll have the rest of break.”

Oikawa hums happily, swinging the grocery list back and forth. He pauses when he sees Iwaizumi staring at him. “Mm? Is Iwa-chan finally realizing how beautiful the amazing Oikawa-san is?”

“Quiet. That,” Iwaizumi says, pointing to the dark, slender bruises on Oikawa’s neck. “Did you get into an accident or something?”

“Oh, that.” Oikawa shoots Iwaizumi a smile. “An accident, yeah. I had a little fight. It’s no big deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, North did some art for this, right [here!](https://twitter.com/northly/status/1169354119431229441)


End file.
